Inda - 01 - Inda by Sherwood Smith

Author:Sherwood Smith
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
Published: 2011-12-02T07:32:51+00:00

Chapter Three

NEARLY two years passed before the Pim ships again reached the coast of Iasca Leror.

The convoy that emerged from the Narrows that second spring was a magnificent display, stretching to the horizon, the complicated geometries of fore-and-aft-rigged ships with square topsails interstitched by the long, elegant triangles of single-masted cutters racing up and down the line, signal flags snapping in the strong, cold spring winds.

The trade convoys always gathered in masses just south of Sartor as self-protection against the pirates infesting the unpatrolled southern waters. This year’s convoy, held a full extra month beyond the usual time due to contrary winds, had benefited from the strengthening of another forty vessels, discounting the odd little smacks that stuck close lest they be snapped up by the pirates lurking to the west in the inlets of the land bridge.

Next cruise’s worry about getting safely through the Narrows was a year or two off. They’d made it safely through the Narrows in a long string, framed by cloud-touching cliffs, and now the Pim ships were sailing to the north, almost home, after nearly two years’ trading. Those who had family, friends, or lovers along the Iascan coast watched every plunge of the bow, how each sail drew.

Inda watched as well, standing with ease on the foretopsail yard with Tau and Jeje. The rise and fall of the ship had become a part of life, as unthinking as breathing. The wind, a stiff breeze sweeping up from the southwest, stayed steady. No one had had to touch brace or sheet since morning, so the three were watching the other ships, how they handled their sails, and half-listening to the sailors on the mainsail masthead behind them, their words carried forward on the wind.

“Well, I wonder if m’ wife’ll still be there. Night before I left she chucked a cook-pot at m’ head.”

“My boy oughta be talkin’ by now.”

“My ma’ll be surprised I made it a whole year and a half without being hanged,” Tau observed.

Jeje snickered. They knew her home was up in Lindeth, the next harbor north, but she had relatives in the Parayid Harbor, and she’d heard of Tau’s mother’s pleasure house.

What Inda thought about was the land east of the harbor—his Fera-Vayir cousins’ land. Part of Choraed Elgaer, just a few days’ ride south of Tenthen. His homeland.

He had tried to forget. But oh, sometimes at night, especially during the long winter they spent tacking grimly through the dangerous waters south of Sartor, he had shivered on deck picturing Tdor there on the dock as the Pim Ryala spilled wind and glided in on the tide. She would be waving and shouting, “Come home, Inda! Come home! It’s all made right.” His imagination never quite decided what “it” was. Sometimes the false accusations were denied by the Sirandael himself before the entire academy, and then he was surrounded by Sponge and his bunkmates, ready for him to join the games again. In other daydreams Tanrid spoke up on the parade ground denouncing Kepa and Smartlip.

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